


Lining

by yeaka



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 19:13:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8930428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Marcus unwittingly turns grey skies blue.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for “Housework” prompt on [my bingo card](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/149673766130/fic-bingo).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Eagle or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s one of _those_ days, where everything’s shitty and won’t get better—it’s freezing outside, he left his gloves and scarf at home, the deadline’s coming up to pay for next semester and he doesn’t want the enormous load of even more student loans, work was a nightmare, he burnt his lunch, and all he wants to do is go home and punch a hole in the wall. It’s about time he made one. Marcus made three, all by accident, which doesn’t even seem _possible_ , but Marcus is always managing the impossible. By the time Esca’s kicking off his shoes in the entranceway of their tiny apartment, he’s either ready to collapse on the sofa or fly off the handle. He’s not sure which.

He hears a welcome, “Hey,” from the living room and grunts in response. Of course Marcus will have had a fine time. Marcus is beefy enough to do fine in cold weather. Marcus can afford school. Marcus doesn’t have to really _work_ because he’s an injured athlete that’ll make millions when he’s allowed back on the field, and Marcus never burns his food, because Esca makes it for him. Cooking his meals and cleaning the apartment doesn’t seem enough to Esca to offset the fact that Marcus pays _all_ the rent, and then he steps into the living room and doesn’t know if his heart’s swelling from relief or guilt.

It’s cleaning day. He didn’t want to do it. Didn’t have the energy. And obviously he doesn’t have to, because all the usual hoodies and socks typically scattered about the room are folded neatly in a hamper. The floor’s spotless, the rug rolled up on one side where the broom must’ve gone around it. Marcus is by the mantle, moving their picture frames and figurines away with one hand and clutching a rag in the other, clearly about to dust it. To top it all off, Marcus is only wearing a thin jersey and boxers. The heater’s turned up enough for it. Marcus probably doesn’t even know how horribly handsome he is. Esca just glumly _stares_.

Then he marches across the living room, flattens right into Marcus’ back, and wraps his arms tight around Marcus’ middle. Marcus grunts but takes it. Esca’s sure it’s Marcus’ body heat that thaws him out, returns feeling to his fingers and nose and stops his teeth from chattering, despite the obvious high notch of the thermostat on the wall. Marcus doesn’t move, just stays there and plays Esca’s rock, and asks, “How was your day?”

Somehow, Esca winds up saying, “Fine.” Because it is fine now. None of the other stuff seems to matter when he comes home to _this_. He mutters, “I was supposed to clean...”

“You’ve been stressed lately; I can handle it,” Marcus says easily, reaching down to pat Esca’s hand. Esca can feel the slightly grainy texture clinging to Marcus’ fingers that means he’s been immersed in dust and grime for too long. “But as much as I love having you attached to me, I have to finish this so I can get to the dishwasher.”

Esca begrudgingly lets go of his personal house-hunk. He lets Marcus finish dusting the mantle, but then he plucks the rag from Marcus’ hand and drops it to the floor.

He intertwines his fingers in Marcus’ and silently tugs Marcus to the bedroom, needing to really make this a _good_ day after all.


End file.
